Northern Downpour
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: Prequel to Phoenix "She doesn't know much, but she knows she wants to keep it, her reason for returning one day."
1. Chapter 1

** "Northern Downpour"**

**Summary: It's wrong and she knows it, but at the same time she doesn't care. Prequel to Phoenix!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Northern Downpour and AHS belongs to the sadist that is Ryan Murphy. Even though, Tate is not Rubberman in this story mostly because this was a prequel to Phoenix and he wasn't in that.**

**A/N: This story is mostly from Violet's point of view! I haven't decided if it will be a one or threeshot**

** Chapter 1**

**Violet**

**II**

"_We're leaving."_

Her parents words seemed to linger in the air, they were stagnant and final, and for once there was no point in arguing. She had been given strict directions to go up to her room and pack the things she could carry, they would be leaving in the morning on the first plane out and the rest of her things would be collected later in the week by hired help would collect the rest. Her mother had finally reached her breaking point; the house and the pregnancy becoming too much.

Violet stood in her room shoving clothes into a trunk on her bed, she was really in no hurry, she had until the morning. She was nervous about one thing however, she would have to tell Tate that she was leaving. She didn't want to do that, she also didn't want to leave him. She presses her hands to her face, feeling a batch of tears from her eyes; she really didn't want to leave him.A part of her wishes that those pills had worked, that she would be stuck with him here forever.

Violet feels a gentle arm around her shoulders. "Violet," Tate's voice fills her ears. "Did somebody hurt you? Why are you crying?" he growls.

Violet turns to meet Tate's hostile brown eyes, she had always loved his eyes. To others they held the darkness, but to Violet they held a light that only she could see. She pulled him close to her body, running her hands through his silky gold curls. She melts into his body as if she is trying to memorize it.

"I'm leaving." Her voice comes out in a soft whisper.

Tate pulls away, enough that their bodies still touch. "When?" he gasps.

"Tomorrow," Violet mumbles.

Tate leans his face towards her, his lips inches from hers. "I could do something," he murmurs

Violet shakes her head, "just be with me tonight," she mumbles, closing the gap between them.

**II**

Sex with Tate was not what people would have expected, to most they would expect him to be some sort of sexual sadist but it was far from that. It was all loving touches, gentle kisses, and whispered words of adoration. He was very intuitive when it came to her needs, he had moved slowly at first when he saw the pain that lingered in her eyes, he moved slowly. When the pain had ebbed and she was begging for him to go faster, he did until they lay together in a sweaty heap on her bed.

The air seemed to hold a sex haze, it was warm and sticky but there was something odd and soothing about it. Violet lay against Tate's chest, listening to the beating of his heart; feeling the hot salty warm of his skin against her cheek; who knew the dead could be so warm and inviting? He drew patterns on the sensitive skin of her back, sending a jolt of electricity through her body that caused her to shiver and for to Tate to tense up.

Tate looks down at her with worried eyes. "A-are you okay?" he asks, breathlessly.

Violet looks up at him, "I am just _sad_," she sighs, burying her head into his chest.

Tate's heart seems to pick up; Violet can hear it against her ear. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, frantically.

Violet shakes her head, and lets out a chuckle. "No, no," she sighs. "That was at risk of sounding like a sentimental child _perfect."_

Tate smirks, pulling her closer to his body, "Don't worry," he chuckles. "You sound like a sentimental child, but that's okay because I love you anyway."

Violet closes her eyes, "I love you too," she responds, quietly.

Tate tilts her chin back giving her a gentle kiss on the lips, "You do?" he breathes. "You've never said that before."

"There was never a need," she admits, cautiously. "I always thought I would have all the time in the world."

Tate nuzzles his nose against the nape of her neck. "I love you," he mumbles into her skin, he kisses her neck, "I always will, make me a promise."

"Depends."

"One day you'll come back to me."

Violet remains silent a moment, "If I have the proper motive," she says, finally.

"Being in love with me isn't enough?"

"Sometimes love isn't enough."

**III**

Violet always thought that returning to Boston would be the best day of her life, but it was far from that. The month after her family had returned to Boston tragedy struck. Violet sat in the waiting room of the hospital waiting for her parents. Her mother had gone into premature labor and was currently in operating room, her father there with her. It had been hours since she arrived with her mother via ambulance, she was tired and felt sick, so sick. It was probably just the stress.

Her father emerges from the room, he is clad in that cheap ass material that they make the fathers wear in the delivery room. He has a familiar facial expression, the one that she saw the previous year when her brother was lost. Violet immediately stands up and meets her father at the other end of the corridor.

Her father immediately wraps his arms around her, "Violet," croons Ben, "oh, Violet, we lost them both; they were so tiny."

Violet feels a sudden onset of emotion; she has been feeling very emotional lately. Not her usual numb feeling. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she whimpers.

"Oh Violet," he sighs. "I hope you have more luck when it's your time."

**III**

Her time comes sooner than she thought, she finds herself on the bathroom floor of her family's apartment. The box sits in front of her, it has been far more than the designated five minutes. She already knows it's positive. She has all the symptoms, the fatigue, the vomiting, the lack of her monthly period.

Violet rests her back against the wall of the bathroom, her stomach feels queasier than normal but she knows that's just from the nerves of having to tell her parents. The nerves because her mother can't seem to have a baby without miscarrying , or the fact that her baby belongs to the boy her father told her to stay away from, or the fact that he's a ghost of a person that killed 15 people. She knows one thing, though, she wants to keep the baby. It's the only part of him that she has left, it's her reason for returning one day.

Violet rests her hands on her stomach. "It's you and me," she whispers.

**A/N: Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or Northern Downpour**

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews!**

** Chapter 2**

**I**

**Violet**

The first time Violet sees her baby she is at the doctor; almost five months along, she still hasn't told her parents that she is expecting a little baby Langdon, they would surely send her to a long list of adoption agencies. Her father would surely want to do a psychological examination on the fetus, hoping that the child didn't pop out having its father's familiar urges. Part of her hoped that didn't happen either, but she saw the side that others didn't.

She think it's going to be a little boy, a little boy with his father's blonde curls and eyes so brown they seem to go black when he is angry or passionate about something, like his favorite Nirvana album (Never Mind, always Never Mind), how Vinyl will always be better than tapes or CDs, and how he finds Byron superior to whatever obscure Russian novel she is reading at the time. A little boy who has a thing for plaid, arts, and literature; one that would be sweet, and articulate. The version of Tate that she saw, a better version, a healthier version, the version Tate had strived to be in her last few weeks wit him.

Violet had gotten lost in her own little world that she had forgotten the doctor prodding around down there. She didn't come to until she noticed the doctor pulled her shirt up , Dr. Monoghan a young woman with red hair and dimples…dimples, she hoped that the baby had Tate's dimples. God this pregnancy was turning her into one of those rainbows and unicorns bitches.

Dr. Monoghan squirts her the gel on her stomach without warning causing her to flinch from the cold feeling. "Sorry," she laughs, gently. "It's cold."

Violet fakes a smile, she thinks she pulled something. "You don't say," she cracks, dryly.

The woman smiles and runs the wand over Violet's swell. "Everything looks healthy," she says, gently. " want to know the sex?"

Violet shrugs, trying to hide the excitement she feels growing but hides it. "Sure," she says, simply.

"It's a girl."

A girl, Violet was definitely not expecting a girl. Girl's seemed more difficult to take care, girl's depressed her. Girls were the kind of people that needed her father, for protection and such. To run away when their mothers became too much, Violet also knew one thing. Tate would love a little girl.

She smiles, softly. "Wow."

**II**

Violet is in her six month of pregnancy when she finally tells her parents about the pregnancy. She had no choice, really, her baggy shirts don't seem to hide of the swell of her growing belly. She figures that if the kids at school can tell, that her parents would soon assume.

She is sitting on the couch in the living room, her mother is sitting in a lush chair across her. Her father is leaning against the fireplace, his head resting against his elbow. Both just staring at her intently, waiting for her to speak. Violet can't seem to get the words to come out, she rubs her belly gently; at least if her parents reject her she will still have Autumn, she has decided on Autumn for the name.

Ben runs his hands over his head, "Violet," he sighs. "Just tell us, please."

Vivien rolls her eyes. "Let her take her time, Ben," she snaps.

Violet smiles, weakly at her mother, the tension lingers in the air. Surely, they will start fighting again whether Violet tells them or not. "Dad," she whispers. "I'm sorry, I didn't stay away from Tate."

Ben lets out a boisterous chuckle. "Tell me something I don't know," he mocks. "The boy seemed happier then I had seen him in a while after I caught him in your room."

Vivien snaps her head up to look at Ben. "You banned her from seeing a boy?" she chides, with a soft laugh. "Have I taught you nothing, she is just going to want to see him."

"Sorry, Vivien, I thought his obvious psychosis would scare her off," he responds, gruffly.

A fight is brewing; she knows it; so it's best just to say it. "I'm pregnant," she says, quickly. Like vomit.

Tears start to fall from Vivien's eyes, she gets up quickly and exits the room; a door slams off in the distance of the house. The jolt startles Violet causing her to jump, and the baby kicks, like she is trying to say that everything will be alright; she gives a gentle pat back on the tip of her belly.

Her father shakes his head, disappointment present in his eyes. "Mental illness is genetic," he says, simply before exiting the room.

**III**

The first time she sees Tate again, it's an illusion; her mind is playing tricks on her. She is drenched in sweat from head to toe, labor being far more difficult due to her narrow hips. A fever overcomes her body; some sort of infection is growing inside of her. Everything just seems to be twilight noise right now. Her parents were ushered out of the room and something about a caesarian section and the intravenous medications needed quickly.

Violet closes her eyes for a moment, when she feels a cool hand across her forehead; she opens her eyes warily and sees him standing next to her. He looks exactly like she remembers him; of course he does; trapped forever in the body of a seventeen year old with angelic face and golden curls. He is giving her that smile that he always has reserved for her.

"Tate," she whispers, through her delirium, "I am so weak."

Tate's lips touch her forehead, "Violet," he croons, "you have to hold on, be strong for the baby."

"It's a girl," she smiles, dopily.

Tate smirks. "Good," he sighs. "I hate most of the male population, what's her name going to be?" It's almost like the hallucination is trying to calm her down

"Autumn."

Tate wrinkles his name. "No," he says, distaste present in his voice. "Anything but autumn…or Constance." He teases.

"Why?"

"Too cliché," he states. "she needs a name that means more."

"More?"

"She's a piece of you and a piece of me," he chuckles, stroking a sweat drenched tendril; giving a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Her name needs to be more unique."

"_Unique."_

Everything goes black.

**IIII**

When she wakes up she is in a plain white, she is sore; she feels like she's been cut open and her insides have been ripped out. She figures that's what a caesarian section is basically, that's what a baby is a parasite that grows within you for nine months and that you are stuck with for eighteen plus years.

She wants to see her little parasite, that's the only thing that got her to open her eyes again. Violet looks around the room and sees a nurse; a plump black lady with a small bundle in her arms. Her baby, Tate's baby, their baby; god she sounds like a puss, must be those leftover pregnancy hormones.

"Nurse," she calls, hoarsely.

The woman turns to her, her purple scrubs make a weird scraping noise and her smile is broad. "Morning, Violet."

Violet extends her arms, "Can I see my baby?" she asks eagerly.

The nurse places her baby in her arms, Violet cradles the small baby to her chest. She looks down at the small bundle taking in all her features; the fair skin could be from either one of them but she chooses to believe it's from Tate, the thick tuffs of gold on her head definitely his, and his nose; yes that is definitely his nose. Definitely beautiful.

"What's the verdict?" the nurse asks, Violet looks up, her name tag reads Veronica. "She look more like Mom or Dad?"

Violet smiles, "Dad," her voice cracks. She misses him now more than ever.

Veronica frowns, "Sorry, honey," she sighs. "Did he leave."

"Died." Technically it wasn't a lie.

The nurse looks back down at the. "She's like a Phoenix." She says, wistfully. "New, fresh, stronger than the original."

_Phoenix Theia Harmon_

_ August 14, 2012 3:30 AM_

_7lbs 0 oz 19 in. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story or Northern Downpour.**

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! This one is for Candace. ;)**

** Chapter 3**

**I**

Phoenix asks Violet about Tate for the first time the night before they are due to move, it's out of the blue. They lay in a hotel room near the airport; they share a bed because Phoenix is scared after hearing a noise outside the door. She is curled up against her mother, her head resting against her breast. She rubs circles around the street lights reflection on the rough hotel sheet.

Violet strokes her daughter's thick golden curls. "Phi," she whispers, "you should really try to sleep."

Phoenix nods, slowly; rolling over and burying her head deeper into her mother's chest. "Mommy," she whispers, "where is my Daddy?"

Violet frowns, she always knew this day was coming. "Why?"

Phoenix shrugs, "When I got sick at Melanie's and went to get her Mommy, she and Melanie's Daddy shared a bed."

Violet frowns, it's been five whole years and she still misses sharing the bed with Tate. She misses his body warmth against hers, the soothing circles he runs over her skin idly while he thinks she's sleeping. She has had other boyfriends, but they just felt different. Violet looks down at her daughter's reflection, her own little piece of him and pulls her closer, rubbing the idle circles on her back.

"Umm," she breathes. "He died."

Violet feels warm tears gather on her night shirt, and her daughter's tiny body start to shake with sobs. She runs more soothing circles over the little girl's back. "Phoenix," she mumbles. "Don't cry, you didn't even know him."

Phoenix looks up, Violet knows she is staring with those intense eyes of hers. "That makes me sadder," she cries.

Violet leans down and kisses her head. "Don't cry," she croons. "He wouldn't like it if you cried over him."

It was true; Tate hated the tears of girls, well the ones that actually meant something to him. She had a feeling, but she knew that Phoenix meant something. Despite his issues, she had a feeling that Tate would be a decent presence in her life.

"What was he like?" mumbles a shaking Phoenix.

Violet can't put all those cards on the table, not just yet. You can't tell a little girl that her father is possibly the worst type of mentally ill that there is. She can however tell her of all her father's good, and there was some. Even if at times it was hard to see, but there was a light; Violet may have been the only one to see it but it was there.

"Just like you."

**II**

It's after Tate sees Phoenix for the first time that they make love again, it's different than the first time The kisses were more passionate, there was a certain need that had been lingering, the touches were hotter. The after math still left them lying in that sweaty heap on her mattress, both too hot to pull the sheets over their bodies just yet; Violet lay with her legs thrown across his bare abdomen.

Tate trails his hands across her stomach softly, but frowns once his fingers hit the scar from her C-section. "What happened there?" he asks, anxiously.

Violet smirks, "your baby happened," she responds dryly.

Tate sits up quickly, and grabs his boxers sliding them on quickly. "I thought you said she wasn't like that part of me," she says, quickly.

Violet sits up and grabs his cardigan from the end of her bed and pulls it over her head. "Tate," she laughs, "Tate what are you doing?"

"Looking up a good therapist," he says, quickly.

"Well then obviously we aren't giving my father any late night calls," Violet says, dryly.

Tate shakes his head, "This isn't funny," he growls. "She stabbed you."

Violet smacks her forehead, "Tate," she giggles. "She didn't stab me, she is actually quite the Mommy's girl, but she did however have to be cut out of me."

Tate breathes a sigh of relief and sits back down on the bed, "Why?" he asks, slowly.

Violet shrugs, "stubborn like her father," she says, simply. She sees Tate's uneasy expression and decides to explain. "I got sick during labor, a fever and they said it would kill her if they didn't get her out in time."

"Probably didn't want to spend a lot time of time away from you."

"Just like her father." She chuckles, sleepily. "I saw you, well I hallucinated you."

Tate lies back down on the bed, and pulls Violet to his chest. "Tell me about it," he mumbles, "I want to know."

Violet curls into him, "She was a beautiful baby, looked just like you," she yawns. "But she got stuck and needed her help."

"Sounds like me," he cracks lightly. "Part of me wasn't glad I was there, I wouldn't have liked seeing you in all that pain."

Neither of them speak after that, they just lay in silence for a while until Tate decides to speak again.

"August 14th," he says, sleepily. "She was born August 14th, right?"

Violet is taken aback, "Yes, August 14th is her birthday, why?"

"I remember feeling oddly complete."

**III**

One night Violet comes home from work, her job at a local paper as a fact checker. The money isn't a lot, but the inheritance she got from her grandparents is enough to make up for the difference. She needs the time to herself; the house has a way of driving one insane, but she still loved it nonetheless.

The house is dark when she gets home, except for a dim light from the room that used to be her father's office. A violet figure that Tate just forgot to turn the light off and is probably off wandering around the house, making sure everything is secure while Phoenix sleeps what he usually does. But when she turns to go in the room she sees Tate laying across the blood red couch, with Phoenix fast asleep wrapped in one of his cardigans sprawled across his chest; Violet knocks into lamp getting Tate's attention.

Violet smiles, "did she give you trouble at bed time tonight?"

Tate frowns and nods. "Yeah," he sighs, "she worried me."

"Why?"

Tate strokes Phoenix's hair gently. "I had her all ready for bed," he whispers, "but then she started throwing up, like massive amounts; I don't even know how she managed because she is so small."

Violet walks over to Tate and Phoenix and runs her hand over Phoenix's head, her skin runs burning hot under hand. "Oh god, she's burning up," she says, anxiously. "You didn't think to feel her forehead?"

Tate frowns, "I tried," he mumbles. "But everybody's skin feels hot to me."

Violet starts laughing despite herself, the situation just seems so surreal. Maybe, because it is, yeah definitely because it is; just another bizarre situation this house brought her.

Tate scowls. "Why are you laughing?" he asks, frantically.

"Because you're trying so hard."

**III**

The morning after , more like afternoon that Violet spent up all night with a very pukey Phoenix she woke up expecting to find her still curled up in bed. She had expected to have to coax her out of bed, having to force her to push down a dry piece of toast and her snoopy cup full of ginger ale, then read her several fairytales. Poor, jaded girl, she was still young enough to believe in those stupid fairytales.

She wasn't in bed though, Violet wandered the house looking for Phoenix, she was probably in the living room watching TV, curled up with her purple flannel blanket. But she wasn't, she however found another unexpected presence in the house. In the kitchen, by the sink she found Constance Langdon gazing right out the window.

Violet walked deeper into the kitchen. "What are you doing in my house?" she asks, irritably

Constance turns and gives Violet a gentle smile, "Hello, dear," she croons, before turning back to the window. "I am just watching."

Violet moves over to the space next to Constance and looks out the window. In the backyard she sees Tate sitting on a blanket outside, with Phoenix curled up in her pajamas and his cardigan again, lounging dazedly across Tate's chest. Both have their heads turned up to the sky; Tate's hands rubbing those gentle circles against her back. The birds, they were probably looking at the birds, Phoenix loved birds.

Constance smiles slowly. "I haven't seen him like this in a while," she sighs. "Not since you came along, he closed off within himself for a while, again."

Violet frowns, an aching builds in her chest. "He was probably just lonely," she mutters.

Constance shakes her head. "No," she croons. "It was a different kind of ache, the kind when you lose a piece of yourself."

"Oh," is all Violet can manage.

"He just seems complete again."

"I do too."

**End**

**A/N: Review?**


	4. SEQUEL

**A/N: I am posting a final installment, it takes place after the events of Phoenix and Northern Downpour. It's called "You Never Give Up." So, look out for it?**


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